


Miscommunication

by Ms_Tassimo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski, Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, no actual non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-05 13:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Tassimo/pseuds/Ms_Tassimo
Summary: “I didn’t ask them to kidnap you,” Derek said cagily, averting his eyes. “It was a miscommunication.”“A miscommunication?!” Stiles exclaimed. “Your friends chloroformed my ass and drove me to fuck knows where! This isn’t a miscommunication, Eyebrows, this is freaking abduction.” Stiles glared at him from where he sat, trying not to let his eyes wander towards the jeans clad crotch of his kidnapper.If he was honest, he would have quite happily gone home with Derek, had he been asked. However, what he objected to – and quite rightly so, he thought – was the whole cloak-and-dagger-holed-up-in-the-middle-of-nowhere scenario he now found himself in.Or in which Stiles finds himself kidnapped to brew an heir to the Hale family.EDIT: there is NO non-con/dubious consent in this story. I know some people have been concerned about this but it is not something that will be found in this fic. Sorry for any confusion caused.





	1. "This is my only love in life, Scott."

**Author's Note:**

> I 100% should not be starting a new fic (which was born from me being too lazy to get my pendrive from downstairs to finish the dozens of other fics I have been writing) Oh well; new year, new fic.

Stiles should not have been out. He had a 3000-word assignment due the next day- no, sorry, later _today_ , and there was not a hope in hell of him managing to write anything when he was eight beers into the night. There’s also the fact that his pre-heat is due to hit within the next few days.

“You know the funniest thing,” he slurred to Scott, leaning against the bar, “is that I didn’t even really _like her_ , you know? She was status-ist.”

“Aaand, this is when I _know_ you’ve had too much to drink,” Scott said, attempting to pluck the bottle from Stiles’ hands. The taller boy grumbled, gripping onto the glass and glaring up at his best friend.

“This is my _only_ love in life, Scotty,” Stiles mumbled, “the _only_ one who won’t let me down.”

“Gee, thanks, Stiles.” Scott rolled his eyes, waving over the bartender and getting Stiles a glass of water.

“Don’t worry, Scotty,” Stiles said, knocking back the water. “You only let me down when Allison is involved.” In his drunken haze, Stiles felt vaguely guilty at the wounded puppy look on Scott’s face. However, it was quickly shoved to the side when he spotted a figure at the other side of the dancefloor.

“Holy shit, Scotty,” he breathed, hitting Scott in the chest to get his attention. There was a faint “oof” as Stiles’s palm made contact with the hard surface of Scott’s torso but all Stiles could focus on was the tall, brooding man that he had clocked _staring in his direction_. The angles of his jaw could cut diamonds, a light dusting of stubble covering the lower portion of his face. From this distance, Stiles could not make out the colour of his eyes but he _could_ see the heavy eyebrows that sat above them, the same colour as the thick dark hair that sat on the top of his head.

Stiles could only imagine the body that was hidden beneath the black t-shirt and jeans the mystery man was wearing but what he _was_ imagining was ripped and making his own jeans tighten at the crotch.

“Scotty,” he said dopily, slipping from his barstool and toppling over in the process. “I will be _right_ back.”

“Stiles, no-”

Stiles tuned Scott out, pushing past grinding bodies on the dancefloor as his eyes remained on the prize ahead of him.

“Hey,” he said breathlessly, almost nose to nose with the stranger. Sober, Stiles would have remained where he was sitting, staring hopelessly at a man who was, in his opinion, completely unobtainable and uninterested in someone like Stiles. But right now, it seemed the best idea in the world to ask this man to dance.

“Hey,” the man said back, raising a thick eyebrow and quite blatantly looking Stiles up and down. Stiles swayed, trying to ignore the way his vision was swimming and trying to concentrate more on just how full the guy’s lips were and how much he would like to kiss them.

“I’m Stiles,” Stiles shouted over the music, grinning.

“Derek,” the guy shouted back. “What kind of a name is Stiles?”

Stiles laughed, tilting his head to the side.

“A nickname,” he said casually. “If you dance with me, I might tell you my real one.”

 _Smooth, Stiles, so smooth_.

But Derek seemed to like the cheesiness of Stiles’s words and he slipped his fingers through the other man’s and led him towards the centre of the dancefloor. He wound a muscled arm around Stiles’s waist, pulling him close.

Stiles could hardly believe his luck as he ground his hips against Derek’s. Through his blurred vision, he could see Scott gaping from where they had been at the bar and he merely smirked to himself, twisting his body.

Moments later, however, he felt Derek’s lips against his scent gland, and a thrill of need shot through Stiles, making him freeze on the spot. Derek, feeling the change in atmosphere, paused as well, his hand resting on the bone of Stiles’s hip.

“You’re an Omega?” The question did not come with the accusatory tone Stiles was used to, the disappointment laden words that normally caused whoever he was with to make a hastened excuse to leave.

Sometimes he didn’t even get an excuse.

“Y-Yeah,” Stiles stuttered, starting to pull away.

Rejection was a very sobering event.

He was surprised, however, when Derek’s grip on him tightened suddenly. The other man turned Stiles around so that they were facing each other. It was then when Stiles saw the blood red of Derek’s eyes.

 _Alpha_.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Derek whispered in Stiles’s ear, his breathing coming in short puffs. Stiles moaned in agreement, starting to haul Derek towards the exit. This was not something Stiles did often. In fact, it was rare that he let his Omega status get the best of him. And, maybe yes, it was a bit too close to his Heat to have gone out to a club. But all Stiles could think about in that moment was being as full of the Alpha as possible, as _soon_ as possible.

Shivers rippled down the Omega’s back as Derek let out a small growl against Stiles’s scent gland, his eyes rolling back slightly as he felt the Alpha’s bulge against his back.

“Down here,” Stiles said breathlessly when they broke free from the heat and noise of the bar, barely registering how cold it was in the November air. Derek complied, tugging Stiles by the hand and caging him against the wall, one firm thigh shoved between both of Stiles’s quaking ones.

Stiles groaned needily, pressing his hips against Derek’s. The Alpha’s lips captured his own, teeth nipping and tongue soothing as the kiss deepened. Stiles could feel their heartbeats aligning, echoing as one as the Omega ran a hand down Derek’s chest, towards what Stiles – ashamedly – was most interested in.

Had Stiles had complete control of his senses, and hadn’t been completely overwhelmed by the alcohol and the Alpha, he would have heard the hurried footsteps coming towards them, and would have fully registered Derek’s sudden growl as one of warning, rather than arousal. He did, however, stumble when Derek’s weight disappeared, only to be replaced with a rag being pressed forcefully against his mouth. But before Stiles could react or, indeed, get his mind to catch up with his surroundings, darkness collapsed around him, and rendered him unconscious.


	2. This isn’t a miscommunication, Eyebrows, this is freaking abduction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such a mountain of assignments to get through so updates might be a little slow for the next couple of months! Although, nothing makes better procastination than writing so...

Chapter 2:

“You _idiots!”_ Derek snarled, slamming his hands down on the table, which rattled with the force. Erica flinched, glaring at the Alpha with narrowed eyes.

“Take it up with Peter, Derek, he _told_ us to follow you!” Derek paused, his eyes flashing red as he turned on his heel and stormed from the room, leaving three rather pensive-looking Betas in his wake. Peter had gone too far this time; it was one thing to try and set him up with complete strangers, but it was another to _kidnap_ someone.

“What have you _done_?” Derek growled, barrelling through the door of Peter’s study and standing in the doorway, his face shifted and his fangs bared. In contrast, his uncle sat at his desk, staring aimlessly at his computer screen. If Derek had not known any better, he would have dismissed him as harmless.

Unfortunately, harmless was the last thing he could call Peter Hale.

“I’ve done what we’ve been waiting for you to do since you turned eighteen,” Peter told him silkily, slowly closing the lid of her laptop. “You can kick and scream all you like, Derek, but I’m really just doing this for you.”

Derek growled again, his eyes never leaving Peter’s.

“But why him? Why not one of your _contacts_?” He could not help but spit the word out, like poison on his tongue. But when he thought about the women his uncle had tried to pair him off with, his stomach churned and his heart ached.

“I wondered,” Peter continued, as though Derek had not even reacted, “why you had such an aversion to the women Laura and I set you up with.” His expression darkened and his mouth twisted. “I didn’t _realise_ it was because you were more interested in _men_.” He got to his feet, looking at Derek lazily.

“Think of it as a treat, Derek,” Peter said, smirking. “One ripe Omega, delivered straight to your bedroom.”

It took moments for Derek to cross the room, pinning Peter against the wall by his throat. His claws teased the skin of the other man’s neck and his fangs itched to tear the man limb from limb. Peter merely chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the sudden show of violence from his nephew.

“As much as you want to hate me, dear nephew, you know it’s for the best.”

Derek sagged slightly, fangs retracting as he dropped Peter to the ground. As much as he did not want to admit it, his uncle was right. The young Omega – Stiles – was going to play an important part in keeping the pack going. But it didn’t mean that he condoned what his Betas had done, and there would be strong words said about going under Peter’s orders rather than his own.

“That’s what I thought,” Peter said, not unkindly. He patted Derek’s shoulder, before moving past the stoic Alpha, leaving Derek to his thoughts.

Sighing, Derek rested his head against the wall. He felt tired, the haze of the wolfsbane beer long gone and in its place, a feeling of unease had settled in the pit of his belly. How was he going to explain this to Stiles? A man he had met just hours ago, and who was currently locked in Derek’s bedroom. Despite himself, the thought warmed him momentarily, remembering the homely scent of the Omega in the club, the yearning he had felt when he’d caught his smell over the sweat and drink of others.

“You’re a fucked up guy, Derek,” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes.

“Not fucked up,” came a voice behind him, “just unfortunate.”

Derek huffed out a small laugh, turning to meet the gaze of his sister. Laura smiled sadly, folding her arms across her chest.

“Isaac told me about our guest.”

““Guest” would imply he was here willingly,” Derek muttered, rubbing his face wearily. “I don’t know what Peter was thinking; it’ll never work.”

Laura nodded, picking up a photo from Peter’s desk.

“Maybe the boy will surprise us,” she murmured.

***

When Stiles awoke, it was to a banging headache. His eyes burned from whatever his kidnappers had pressed to his face, and it took him a moment to find his bearings. Once he had blinked away the stinging sensation, he squinted.

He seemed to be in some sort of bedroom, his body sinking into one of the comfiest beds Stiles had ever graced. The room was almost bare, as though the previous resident had not taken much pride in the place. Against one of the walls was a tall bookcase, battered copies of the classics stacked against various textbooks, well worn. A chest of drawers stood to another wall, the top bare of any ornaments or objects.

Stiles thought about his own room in his and Scott’s shared apartment, where his walls were adorned with pictures of memories throughout the years, and every surface covered in books and – shamefully – empty takeout cartons.

Getting shakily to his feet, Stiles crossed the carpet to the door. He should not have been surprised when it turned out to be locked and took a moment to consider where the other exits could be. To his left there was a tall window, and Stiles had just taken a step towards the chest of drawers that would _totally_ make a great battering ram, when the lock on the door clicked.

He sprung back, looking around desperately for some sort of weapon.

Stiles’s mouth fell open.

In the doorway stood Derek, the guy he had been in the middle of getting freaky with just before-

Before what?

Before he was locked in a strange bedroom and held against his will?

Holy shit.

Stiles was going to die.

“I don’t know what you want, dude, but I seriously suggest that you let me go,” Stiles warned, narrowing his eyes. “People will come looking for me, alright? I’m the Sheriff’s son.” He did not mention that his father was across the country and was used to not hearing from Stiles from weeks at a time, purely because Stiles was useless when it came to keeping in touch.

“Look, Stiles, none of this was meant to happen-”

“How do you _accidentally_ kidnap someone?” Stiles demanded, glaring at the Alpha. He was weighing up his options here; could he take someone, well, so ripped?

“My…pa- _friends,”_ Derek replied through gritted teeth. “They thought…” Derek trailed off, seemingly fighting with his words.

“I didn’t _ask_ them to kidnap you,” Derek said cagily, averting his eyes. “It was a miscommunication.”

“A _miscommunication?!”_ Stiles exclaimed. “Your friends chloroformed my ass and drove me to fuck knows where! This isn’t a miscommunication, Eyebrows, this is freaking _abduction_.” Stiles glared at him from where he sat, trying not to let his eyes wander towards the jeans clad crotch of his kidnapper.

If he was honest, he would have quite _happily_ gone home with Derek, had he been asked. However, what he objected to – and quite rightly so, he thought – was the whole cloak-and-dagger-holed-up-in-the-middle-of-nowhere scenario he now found himself in.

“You’re free to go whenever you want to,” Derek muttered flatly, turning towards the door. “I’m not going to stop you.”

“But I will.”

Stiles peered around Derek in surprise, frowning as he took in the tall, dark haired woman who was standing in the doorway. Her face was set in a grimace, and she looked at Stiles as though he was the last person she wanted to see.

Good. Maybe if Stiles could offend her face a little bit more, she would let him go.

“Laura, he’s not-”

“He’s our last hope, Derek!” the woman, Laura, snapped, staring Derek down. “He’s not ideal but he’ll have to do.”

“Um, excuse me?” Stiles raised his hand, his eyebrows furrowing together. “I’m sitting right here. Could you possibly fill me in on why you’ve kidnapped me? Just so we’re on the same page and all.”

“God, they could have chosen a quieter one,” Laura muttered, rubbing her forehead tiredly. She sighed, looking down at Stiles with the same sort of expression an exasperated mother looked at a naughty child.

“My name is Laura Hale,” she introduced, decidedly not offering her hand. “This is Derek, my brother.” She pointed at Derek needlessly, who was looking shame-faced. “I’m sorry about the circumstances but like I said, we’re running out of time.”

Stiles looked at her, raising his eyebrows. She didn’t look too difficult to take out; Stiles may have been an Omega but he was strong from regular gym visits and he was more than happy to rush a girl if it was between his freedom and staying in this bedroom.

“We are the last of the Hale line,” Laura continued. She arched an eyebrow, as though Stiles was supposed to know what that meant.

“…and?”

Laura made an indignant noise, slapping Derek in the shoulder.

“Say something!”

Derek gave his sister a long-suffering glower before taking a step towards Stiles, who quickly scuffled backwards across the mattress.

“We’re werewolves, Stiles,” Derek said quietly. “We’re the last of the Hale werewolf line.” The man swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “And we need your help to continue it.”


	3. "Don't call me dude."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to throw it out there that this will NOT contain non-con/dubious con. I know it says it in the description, but people seemed to be concerned that this would be appearing later in the fic. I don't want to give the rest of the plot away but at no point will there be any form of non consential sex between any of the characters.

“Let me get this straight,” Stiles said furiously, making wild, angry hand gestures. “You want _me_ , a complete stranger whose bloodlines you know _nothing_ about, to _incubate_ a werewolf heir for you.”

“That- yeah, that sounds about right,” Derek said dejectedly.

“Get fucked,” Stiles told him flatly. “Like, seriously, this womb is a no-werewolf-zone. In fact, no, this womb is a no _baby_ zone.”

“We can’t force him, Laura-”

“And what do you suggest we do, _hmm_?” Laura hissed. “You have had almost 25 years to find someone to do this. Now it’s my turn.” She turned to Stiles, expression sour. “We have two more full moons to do this. After you’ve had the baby, you can go.”

Stiles clicked his tongue against his teeth furiously, hardly caring that he was facing off against a werewolf.

“I’m not a rent-a-womb, lady,” he seethed. “I’m sure there are plenty of women on Craigslist into this sort of stuff.”

“But you’re an Omega,” Laura growled. “And Omegas are descendants of wolves. And the pack could smell your arousal when-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Stiles held his hands up, cheeks burning. “My smells are strictly off limits, okay? That shit is personal.”

He looked over to where Derek was standing, the Alpha staring at the carpet as though looking for a way out of – in Stiles’s opinion – this extremely fucked up situation. He had always been aware of werewolves – after Scott had been bitten when they had been in high school together, the wolfy disposition had sort of been a constant in his life. However, Scott had obviously vetoed the whole stealing-innocent-Omega instinct that seemed to have come to this pack.

“Why twenty-five years?” Stiles asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes at Derek. Damn, if he was the reason he was here, the surly-looking man was going to answer some of his questions and _not_ let his sister answer for him.

Derek’s head jerked up, sucking his cheeks in.

“That’s…our family…” He looked to Laura and was about to open his mouth when Stiles raised his hand.

“No. I want it from _you_.”

Derek took a deep sigh, stowing his hands in his pockets like a teenager and looking straight at Stiles.

“We were cursed,” he told Stiles flatly. “So that our line would die out. Hales have to have children by the age of twenty-five or they become infertile.” He scowled at Laura, who looked nonplussed at her younger brother’s spite. “It’s two months until my birthday. And my… _family-”_ Stiles was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the utter disgust in Derek’s tone “-need me to produce an heir. The next generation of Hale.”

Stiles sucked his cheeks in, glaring between the siblings.

“And why couldn’t _you_ get jiggy with some stranger?” he demanded, looking at Laura. Laura gave him a look of contempt, looking as though she would like nothing more than to strangle Stiles at that very moment in time.

“I’m over the age of twenty-five,” she replied flatly. “Therefore, I can’t.”

Stiles clicked his tongue furiously, shaking his head.

“Well, you’ll need to find another broodmare because this guy,” he pointed to himself, “is not up for rent.”

“And you think when your heat hits, you’ll have much say,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Derek whipped around, a snarl ripping through the room. Stiles peered around Derek and Laura, looking the tall, serene looking man up and down. He was attractive in an older-kinda-terrifying sort of way but from the way that Derek had reacted, this man’s attractiveness was outweighed by how much of an asshole he was.

“It’s illegal to use an Omega’s heats against them,” Stiles said quickly, before realising that his words were probably of little consequence to the man, who let out a small chuckle.

“Silly boy,” he said quietly, taking a step into the room. “Do you really think we would take you anywhere where the _law_ can touch us?”

A lump rose in Stiles’s throat, realisation dawning on him.

He had been taken far away from his home. The chances were that he was in the middle of nowhere, far away from any form of civilisation. From years of being that weird kid that was fascinated by crime and gore, Stiles _knew_ he was screwed. And with his heat just days away, he was running out of time.

“Please,” Stiles said quietly. “You don’t want a kid that’s half me. I’m a freak with ADHD and an unhealthy obsession with curly fries and serial killers; you do _not_ want those kinds of genetics in your family.” He glanced over at Derek, who seemed to have been smirking before his features became mask-like once more.

“Unfortunately,” the man said lazily, “we don’t have many other options. We’ll just have to take our chances with your…defunct DNA.” The man turned to Derek, arching his eyebrow.

“I trust you can make our guest comfortable, Derek. Afterall, you two are going to be getting very well acquainted soon.”

Derek’s nostrils flared, and he let out a small growl, scowling at the other man until he had department, Laura following him through the open door. Stiles swallowed, pressing his back against the headboard as his eyes darted around the room once more.

He was trapped.

“Please,” he said weakly, pride crumbling as he resorted to pleading, “please don’t do this.”

“Shut up,” Derek muttered. “I’m not going to do anything.”

Stiles blinked.

“What?”

Derek said nothing, merely crossing the room to the wardrobe and flinging the doors open. Clothes hung neatly inside, a row of shoes at the bottom. Whoever owned this room seemed to have severe OCD.

“There are sweats in the top drawer,” Derek said, void of any emotion. “The bathroom is on the other side of that door.” He pointed to a door next to the wardrobe that Stiles hadn’t noticed in his first look around the room.

“Dude, you do realise that door is open, right? Like, I could walk out right now.” Stiles slipped off the bed, taking a step towards the door.

“Do you really think you’ll get out this house with six werewolves downstairs?” Derek asked blankly, tossing his t-shirt to the floor-

“Whoa! I thought you weren’t doing anything!” Stiles panicked.

“I’m getting ready for bed, idiot. That okay with you?”

Stiles stared at him.

“You’re the weirdest kidnapper ever.”

Derek gritted his teeth, throwing him a filthy look.

“I’m not a kidnapper,” he bit out. “I don’t want you here anymore than _you_ want to be here, okay?”

“Then why can’t you help me escape?” Stiles demanded, waving his arms around. Why did he have to spell everything out? Surely if Derek wanted him gone, it wouldn’t be difficult.

“It’s…complicated.” Derek paused and, upon seeing that Stiles had yet to help himself to fresh clothes, threw him a soft cotton t-shirt.

“Complicated?” Stiles parroted. “ _Complicated?!_ You stole me from a club just before we-” Stiles broke off, his cheeks reddening. Derek snorted, shaking his head.

“It wasn’t exactly planned, okay? When we went outside, this was the _last_ thing I was thinking of,” Derek replied darkly. “My pack followed me, saw you and stole you, okay? I’m trying to _think_ of a way to let you go before your heat but you mouthing off at my uncle is _not_ going to help things, got it?

“And _don’t_ call me dude.”


End file.
